Some words hit me with tidal wave force and searing pain, leaving me breathless on impact. Wounds reopened, tender at the touch.
And others, said in whisper, remain as such. A quiet voice, coming in-and-out with each breath. I listen through the silence, and hear them play their soft and subtle tune, and wonder at their meaning. These leave a wound of their own; though I know not intended. I suspect you have yet to guess their weight.
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Oh, my heart hurts something fierce these days.
S.
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Why isn't it?
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♥
Because for me, it remains the idea.
ReplyDeleteTo be authentic means to reveal myself, and I just can't open all the way.